Yellow Ledbetter
by Zesty Bod
Summary: When blood bags just aren't cutting it, Damon sets his sights on Bonnie. Spoilers for 6x02. One-shot.


Against all odds, I woke up with a smile on my face. Yes, I was trapped in some kind of time warp with nobody but Damon and that should have made me upset. But once I opened my eyes and saw Miss Cuddles, nestled tightly against my arms, I couldn't help but be happy. My teddy bear had been my most prized possession when I was younger, and she still smelled like dryer sheets and the faint scent of my grandmother's perfume. After nearly five months stuck with Damon, she was the only thing keeping me sane.

I left her on the bed while I took a shower, brushed my teeth and washed my face. I unwrapped my hair and was happy with the way it bounced right into place. One good thing about being stuck in the same day repeatedly: my perm stayed fresh. Couldn't argue with that.

I hummed as I looked through my drawers and closet for something to wear. I settled for a tank top and jeans and didn't even bother with a bra. Normally, I would have been self-conscious about it but I had ditched bras 31 May 10ths earlier and Damon hadn't even noticed. I wasn't even sure that he knew I _had_ breasts or that I was of the female species. It seemed that he hit on everything with a vagina but somehow, in the few torturous years we'd known each other, he'd never hit on me. Thank God.

I took Miss Cuddles in one hand and Grams's old grimoire in the other and bounded down the steps of the outrageously large Salvatore mansion. It only took one night of sleeping in my own empty abandoned house in our empty abandoned town for me to get kind of creeped out. I had been staying at the mansion ever since, on the opposite wing as Damon. It gave us enough space not to run into each other while still being in the same house.

A smirk came to my lips as I heard him playing TLC loudly from the CD player in the kitchen. I expected him to be dancing, but he was frowning, drinking some bourbon straight from the bottle, and making something on the stove. I gritted my teeth at the thought of more pancakes. I hated pancakes, which he damn well knew. I had already promised that if he made any more, I would roll them up into one big pancake tube and shove them up his ass.

He seemed amused by that idea.

"Hey," I said as I placed Miss Cuddles on the table.

He grumbled in response.

"Is that bear-speak for 'good morning to you, too, Bonnie?'"

He grumbled again.

"What are you making?" I asked.

"What does it look like, Princess?"

I rolled my eyes and peeked over the counter to see eggs. Hallelujah.

"You're in a sour mood," I noted. "Even more so than usual."

"Yeah. And?"

I frowned. The only thing I hated more than his talking was his _non_-talking, if that made any sense.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"Hmm, let's see. I've been stuck here with _you_ for five months and you've made it pretty clear that you hate me. I'm not exactly having fun."

"Oh my God, you're so dramatic. I never said I hated you. I said you're my least favorite person in the world. Not the same thing."

I tried to say it jokingly, so that he would know despite our constant bickering, I really didn't hate him. I didn't really like him, either, but hate was too strong a word.

"Whatever."

He shoved a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon to me and didn't say anything else. I put some coffee on and sat at the table, instinctively pulling the paper towards me. My eyes went to the completed crossword and I used it as another attempt at conversation.

"So, when do you think our mystery puzzle finisher will show?" I asked.

Damon shrugged and took a large swig of his bourbon. He stabbed some eggs right out of the pan and then grimaced when he ate them. I frowned again.

"Seriously, Damon, what's wrong with you?"

"I told you."

"Yeah, I know what you told me but I also know that if you're acting this crabby, there's some other reason. Did you have a dream about Elena or something?"

He immediately narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't try to psycho-analyze me, witch." He said 'witch' with a disdain that actually caught me off-guard. I was used to his abrasiveness and moodiness and overall shitty demeanor, but he hadn't actually talked to me like that in a long time and I felt a little pang in my chest that felt eerily like hurt feelings. I steeled my chin and looked down at the plate of food that I no longer wanted and tried to act like I didn't care.

It obviously didn't work.

Just a few seconds later, Damon sighed loudly.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, like the words burned his tongue. "I'm just...hungry."

I looked at him again and frowned. "How are you hungry? You've been eating like fifty pancakes a day, not to mention all the other food in the fridge."

"Yes, well, perhaps you've forgotten that human food doesn't exactly hit the spot for me."

"You have blood bags from the hospital. Are you out already? We can go back..."

"I don't want any more blood bags!" he snapped.

Again, he startled me with his words and harshness and I kind of jumped. A look of regret came over his features and he roughly scrubbed his face.

"Imagine eating three-day old leftovers every day for five months," he said in a normal tone. "You would probably start to get sick of it, too. I have tried everything. I warm the blood up, I put it on my food, everything. I feel like I will go crazy if I don't get some real blood, straight from the source."

I was about to ask how on Earth he was going to do that, but then I saw his blue eyes gaze at my neck like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen. I immediately grabbed my throat and shook my head.

"Oh, hell no," I said.

"Please, Bonnie," he said, starting to walk to me. "I just want a little taste."

"Absolutely not! You almost ripped my throat out last time and although you may have forgotten, I haven't!"

"I was mad last time. I'm not mad now. I promise I'll be very nice and gentle." He smiled like a psychopath, which did very little to make me believe him. He kept walking towards me and I jumped up and tried to get away. He zoomed over to me and backed me up against the wall, then brought his hands up to mine and gently pried them away. He grazed my throat with his cool fingers and said, "you have such a pretty little neck."

Before he could even _think_ about sampling from me, I slapped him so hard that I was sure I broke my hand. In his moment of stupor, I wiggled away from him, grabbed Miss Cuddles, and ran out of the house. I huffed it down the street, shoeless, and ran into the first house I found. I yanked the front door open, locked it securely and then slid down the other side, breathing hard and shaking.

After a few quiet minutes, my heart rate went down and I started thinking clearly again. I realized that Damon could have easily chased after me, but he didn't. I wanted to believe that he wouldn't have actually hurt me or taken my blood against my will, but I wasn't sure. He was Damon, after all: King of the Wild Cards.

I hugged Miss Cuddles close to me and kissed her furry head. I decided that I would stay put in the stranger's house for a little while, which would give me time to go over the grimoire and try to find a way to get the hell away from Damon. It only occurred to me then that I had abandoned the grimoire in the kitchen with Damon's crazy ass. I groaned and hit my head against the door a few times. I knew that I would eventually have to go back for the book, but I wanted to give Damon some time to get a grip on himself.

I spent the next couple of hours milling around the stranger's house, which I found out belonged to a girl that I had gone to high school with. I never knew her very well, but her house was nice and orderly and didn't have anything weird in it like a dungeon in the basement. I thumbed through their family albums and smiled at how happy her parents and siblings looked.

Only when my stomach grumbled did I decide to go back to the mansion. I took my sweet time getting there, and once I let myself into the front door, I heard Damon moving around in the kitchen. I very tentatively looked in and he turned and offered me a sheepish smile. He held out a plate of perfectly grilled cheese and my mouth watered. Damn it, he knew that was my favorite.

"An apology sandwich," he said.

"Is it poisoned?"

He smiled. "No."

He gestured for me to come in and he placed the sandwich on the table. I didn't move. Instead, I eyed him carefully. He was acting completely differently from earlier and I was beginning to wonder if he was actually cracking up. He saw my hesitation and walked over to me. He put his hands on her shoulders and I stiffened. He frowned.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said genuinely. "I'm really hungry but you know I would never hurt you, right?" I didn't respond. "I know we have this frenemy thing going on pretty well and all, but I wouldn't hurt you, even in my bloodlust. Do you believe me?"

I really wanted to not believe him, but some of his past actions told me that he was telling the truth. For all his talk and insults, he had kind of acted like he cared about me a few times.

"I guess," I said.

He smiled. "Good enough. Now sit down and eat before it gets cold."

I allowed him to lead me to the table and once I saw the cheddar cheese bubbling out of the sides of the toasted bread, I couldn't hold my grudge any longer. I dug in and didn't hold back my sounds of satisfaction.

"This is good," I said with a mouth full of food. He smirked in response. When I was finished, I wiped my hands and slid my book to me. "I'm gonna take this up and look it over, okay?" I said. "Thanks for the sandwich."

I took Cuddles and the book up to my room and got situated on the bed. I read through page after page of the grimoire, searching for something that might be helpful. After a while, my eyes got tired and I was fighting off yawns. I closed the book and decided to take a little nap. I curled up with Cuddles and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up a little while later, I was sleeping on the other side of my body. I instinctively reached for Cuddles, but she was gone. My eyes snapped open and looked behind me and all around the bed for her, but she was nowhere to be found. I hopped off the bed and checked under it, but she wasn't there. I started to panic and actually called her name, as if she would answer. When she was, predictably, silent, I expanded my search to the rest of the house. I was sure I had fallen asleep with her, but maybe I had left her in the kitchen. I ran downstairs and rounded the corner and what I saw in the kitchen lit me up with rage.

There stood Damon, resting against the island, holding a butter knife to Miss Cuddle's neck.

"You...asshole," I spit. "Let her go."

"Only if you give me some of your blood," he said with that devious smile that he was known for.

"Are you serious?" I screamed. "What about earlier when you apologized?"

"Bullshit."

I gasped. "You let her go right now, Damon, or I swear to God, I will stake you!"

"Oh yeah? Try it. Miss Cuddles's stuffing will be all over the ground by then."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

He dug the knife into her neck a little and it was then that I realized we had both officially gone insane. Somewhere deep down inside of me, I knew that bargaining with him over a stuffed animal was completely crazy. But she was the only thing keeping me tethered to the real world and if he knew that.

"Is this what we've come to? Teddy bear homicide?!"

"Pretty much," he said with a shrug. "Blood for the bear, honey. Now what's it going to be?"

There wasn't much of a choice.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. He smiled victoriously. "But not from my neck."

He frowned deeply. "What? Then from where?"

"I'll cut myself and pour some in a glass for you."

"Fuck that! I might as well drink from those stupid blood bags."

"Well, sorry, you can't have it from my neck."

His eyes ran over my body, making me feel a little uncomfortable, and he gestured to my arm. "From your wrist, then."

Without thinking, I rubbed my wrist, already imagining the pain his bite would cause.

"I guess," I said.

He slowly lowered his butter knife until it was on the counter. He thrust Miss Cuddles in my face and looked annoyed when I hugged and kissed her like she was my child.

"All right, all right, let's get on with it," he said.

I held on tightly to Miss Cuddles in my left hand, lest Damon kidnap her again, and offered my right wrist to him. I expected him to yank it up to his lips and drink like a mad man, but he was surprisingly gentle as he lifted it to his mouth. I watched, partly disgusted and partly fascinated, as he ran his nose along my skin and took several deep breaths. It was kind of weird, but I had to remember that I was his dinner. It wasn't any different from me smelling my food before I ate it. Or at least I tried to tell myself that.

"I won't hurt you," he promised quietly, and his blue eyes were startlingly sincere. "Ready?"

I nodded. I looked away when he bit me and winced at the feel of it. The actual bite wasn't as bad as the sound of his fangs breaking my skin. He didn't do anything at first and I assumed that he was trying to let me get used to it. I didn't look at him as I nodded my head, telling him to proceed. I just knew that the whole experience would be painful and strange, so when he took his first pull of my blood, I was shocked when something completely unexpected happened.

It felt good. Really good.

A tingling sense of pleasure shot up my right arm, spread through my chest and flooded between my legs. It caught me so unaware that a small whimper escaped my lips. Damon's eyes flashed open and he briefly stopped sucking to make sure I was okay. I nodded and as soon as he closed his eyes and sucked again, I bit my lip to keep any more sounds from coming out. It felt like there was a string tugging from my right wrist that went straight to my nether regions. I was shocked and embarrassed and confused by my body's reaction and I squeezed my thighs together to stop the pulsing, but the friction only made it worse.

I tried to think of everything but what was going on with Damon. I thought about my grimoire and Miss Cuddles and grilled cheese. Nothing worked. Every time he pulled blood from me, the pleasure increased until I was literally on the edge of an orgasm. As much as I wanted it, and needed it, I couldn't let it happen. Not with Damon. And not from bloodsucking. It was just too weird and further proof that I was losing my marbles.

"Okay," I said, my voice all breathy and whimper-y like I was high on sex. "That's enough."

Damon groaned and took one last suck that very nearly made me lose it, but then he disengaged his teeth and pulled back. His eyes were still closed and he licked his lips and teeth slowly, like he was savoring the taste.

"Oh my God," he sighed. "That was so good. Holy shit, your blood's delicious."

His words did nothing for the situation in my panties, so I tried to deflect.

"It's the only blood you've had straight from the source. It's probably not as good as you think," I said flatly.

He popped his eyes open and they looked even bluer than usual. He wore a happy smirk on his face and shook his head.

"Oh, no, little witch, that blood is yummy. And I'm not just saying that because I'm blood-starved."

I looked down at my bloody wrist, which was starting to sting. I heard Damon bite into his own wrist and then he offered it to me. I grimaced and pushed it away.

"Bonnie," he said in a warning tone, "drink. You can't go around with a gaping hole in your wrist."

I grimaced but didn't stop him from biting his wrist again and putting it to my mouth. I reluctantly opened my mouth and he gently grabbed the back of my head and made me swallow. I gagged when the thick metallic fluid slithered down my throat. I tried to push it away but Damon said "ah, ah, ah" and held me there. I swallowed a few more mouthfuls, enough to heal my wound, then I pulled away. I wiped my mouth of his blood, and then we stood there in awkward silence. I knew that Damon had shared blood with many people, but somehow our exchange felt intimate. Maybe because we were in alone. Maybe because I had somewhat voluntarily given him my blood and actually enjoyed it.

Of course, I would _never_ tell him that.

"Thank you," he said. "I really needed that. I think I'm good for a while now."

I nodded, mostly because I didn't trust myself to speak. I took Miss Cuddles and went up to my room. I closed the door and once I was sure that Damon couldn't hear me, I slipped underneath the covers and let my fingers finish the job that he started.

...

I let Damon feed from me three times over the next two weeks. Twice because he asked, and once because I offered. He looked shocked by my silent offering of my wrist, and I played it off by saying that he was much more tolerable when he was well-fed. He never had to know that I liked it.

Amazingly, the blood-sharing didn't affect our relationship. We still bickered and fought and shared every meal and at some point, it became kind of easy and comfortable. One night, we were hanging out in the living room together, with Damon watching a re-run of "The Simpsons" while I painted my toenails. We didn't talk much until Damon said, "I'm hungry."

I didn't even look up from my toenails as I asked, "regular hungry or really hungry?"

"Really hungry."

"Hmm, let me finish this and I'll give you my wrist."

He didn't say anything so I assumed he agreed with that decision. I finished my nails and blew on them a little bit. I put the bottle of polish on a side table, then offered my wrist. He looked at it for a minute, then shook his head.

"I want it from your neck," he said.

I frowned. "What? No. We talked about that."

"Yes, but your concern was that I would hurt you. I think I've proven that I won't hurt you and that I can be careful."

"I don't care, Damon. Neck's out of the question."

"Why?" he asked, staring at me with those eyes that made me feel like he might hypnotize me.

"Because," I said. He raised an eyebrow. "It's too much. It's too...intimate."

"Is that really the reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" I asked, staring at him like he was crazy.

"Maybe you don't want me to feed from your neck because you're afraid of how much you'll like it."

I could feel all the color drain from my face. He had the tiniest smirk on his face and terror gripped my body. He didn't know. He couldn't know. How the hell did he know?

"Excuse me?" I asked slowly.

"It turns you on," he said, with no doubt in his voice. "Me biting you. You like it. Every time I bite you, you go up to your room and diddle yourself just to get some relief."

Outrage, shock, humiliation and anger washed over me and I didn't even know how to respond. Every second of silence only made his smile and confidence grow, so I had to say something.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.

It was weak, but it was all I had. I grabbed Miss Cuddles and stomped off, only to come to a screeching hold when he said, "I can taste it, you know. When you get aroused."

I heard him get up from the couch but I refused to turn around.

"All blood tastes good," he started. "Whether it's from a pretty young thing like you or a fat sweaty slob who's had too many beers. Blood is blood and it rarely stands out as exceptional." I could hear him getting closer to me and my heart raced. "Yours, of course, is special because you're a witch. Your blood's all spicy and sweet and _magical_. But when you're excited...sexually...it tastes even better."

He was right behind me, his body a hair's length away from mine. I gritted my teeth as he slid a finger to wipe hair away from my neck. He bent down until he was at my ear and whispered, "Don't worry. I won't tell your secret."

I spun around, nostrils flared, and poked him in the chest as I said, "I. Do. _NOT_. Like. It."

"Oh yeah?" he asked with a smirky little shrug. "Prove it to me. Let me drink from your neck. If you don't like it, I'll never ask to feed from you again. I'll be a strictly blood bag boy until we get the hell out of his place. Deal?"

I bit my lip and I wanted to smack that smug expression off his face. I _knew_ that I would get aroused, but I just couldn't turn down a challenge from Damon. It was hardwired into my DNA to fight him at every turn. So despite knowing that I would lose, I nodded my head and even had the nerve to smile.

"Deal."

He grinned and then grabbed my hips and backed me up until I was pressed against the wall. His mouth was way too close to mine and the sounds of the television phased out until all I could hear was my own rapid heartbeat. I swallowed hard as his pouty pink lips ventured down until he was almost touching my neck but just far enough away to tease. I felt him breathing on me and my eyes closed. _I was not going to get excited. I was not going to get excited. _ I said it over and over in my head, hoping that it would come true.

The moment he bit me, I knew I was going to lose.

My neck was already my favorite erogenous zone so I had that working against me. Add in the fact that Damon smelled amazing and he was using his tongue to lick up the first little dribbles of blood and I was damn near a goner before he even started. He sucked the blood from me and it took everything in me not to scream. I balled up my fists in his shirt and pressed my lips together and tried to think the unsexiest thoughts imaginable, but nothing worked.

Feeding from my neck felt a hundred times better than from my wrist. It felt like he was touching every part of my body at once, and the pleasure exploded from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Objectively, I knew everything about the situation was wrong and I needed to stop it. With what little sense I had left, I buried my hand in his hair, intent on yanking him off of me. But instead, I only pushed him down harder, making him suckle deeper, and underneath my eyelids, my eyes rolled back. My mouth fell open and heated breaths passed my lips and I may have whispered, "please don't stop."

I knew I was going to hate myself in the morning. Hell, I hated myself right then but that didn't stop me.

Damon groaned against my skin and dropped his hands to my thighs. He picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He pushed himself into me until I felt the proof in his pants that I was not the only one being affected. He sucked and thrusted his hips, hitting me squarely between my legs and making me lose every ounce of reason in my body. I rubbed myself against him and we went at it like that, dry-humping against a wall and him sucking my blood, until I was panting and pleading and so close to ecstasy that I could taste it on my tongue. He gave me one final hard suck, coupled with a thrust so hard that I was surprised he didn't tear through his jeans, and that was all she wrote.

For several glorious seconds, I existed on a plane of pleasure that I had no idea even existed. I felt weightless, high and drunk and giddy and free. I didn't scream or moan; my mouth was simply affixed in a permanent 'O' position while my body was locked around his like I needed it for survival. When I came down, the pleasure weighed on me in the most wonderful way. My eyelids were heavy and my hands hurt from the death grip I had on Damon's hair and shirt. I was vaguely aware of him pulling away from my neck. He breathed heavily like he had just run a marathon, then he licked up all the stray droplets of blood from my neck.

We stayed like that for a little while, until he pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine.

"Do you have any idea how good your blood tastes when you come?" he whispered.

I shivered, unable to respond. I was afraid if I said anything, he would hear how desperately I wanted to throw him down, tear his clothes off and screw him to death. He looked down at my mouth and leaned closer and I was pretty sure we were going to kiss, until another person cleared her throat and both of snapped our heads in the direction of the intruder.

"Well, if you two are quite finished," Katherine said with a smirk, "I think we have some matters to discuss."


End file.
